


Come In From The Cold

by Oricalle



Series: Octopath One-Shots [1]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Mentions Of Prim's Backstory, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 20:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20233567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oricalle/pseuds/Oricalle
Summary: Sometimes Prim's heart still freezes, but she's always there to warm it.





	Come In From The Cold

“You’re getting better at this, you know. Don’t go giving up on me now.”

“I woulden never dream of it.”

Primrose offered a reassuring smile as H’aanit took up the dancer’s stance once again, stretching her arms so far up that her fingertips nearly reached the ceiling of her cozy home. Linde, aware by now that such a pose meant imminent movement, stopped nuzzling her master’s legs and retreated to the sofa, hopping up next to Primrose.

“Three, two, one.” She gave Linde a scratch on the ears, causing the leopard to purr in contentment. “Now go!”

The huntress rose to her tiptoes and span, slowly lowering her arms as she went. Her athletic frame made the grueling maneuver look effortless, and her experience at moving silently ensured that she didn’t even slightly falter. Still, there was one rather obvious flaw. As H’aanit twirled, every time her face met the ramshackle audience of one (plus a cat), she was scowling deeply, nostrils flared and eyes set dead ahead. As the momentum ran out and she came to a stop, the Huntress looked up with a grin, the glare utterly banished from her face.

“‘Twas a fine attempt, no?”

Primrose giggled, rising to her feet and walking over to H’aanit. “Almost perfect, honey. Just...try to look a little more cheerful, will you? You’re trying to captivate an audience, not intimidate them.”

At that, H’aanit’s face fell.

“I fear I cannot help it, dear Primrose.” H’aanit sighed. “‘Tis very difficult for me to smile whilst I concentraten.” In that moment, the fearsome slayer of Redeye and Queen of the Hunt looked much like a sad puppy. Barely containing a snicker at the sight of it, Primrose stood tall and lightly pressed her lips to H’aanit’s cheek.

“Will that help?”

“Mayhaps.” H’aanit replied, color starting to flow into her cheeks.

With a smile and an extra bounce of her hips, Primrose moved back to the sofa, sitting down while she pet the purring leopard. Ever dutiful, H’aanit tried the step again, her reddened face clearly struggling to smile as she did so. Her face was honestly just scarier now, but Primrose didn’t mind. She sunk deeper into the couch, letting herself get comfortable. 

She loved this woman.

It had been a few months since their traveling band had completed their myriad quests and finally went their separate ways. The parting had been extremely emotional, but Primrose had managed to make it through without crying, more than she could say for Alfyn and Ophilia. She could have sworn she saw Olberic wiping a few tears away as well, but she certainly wasn’t going to tease him for it. Over the course of their journey, she had fallen deeply in love with H’aanit, and promised that she would come visit her once business in Noblecourt had concluded. The sad truth was that business hadn’t, however. The city’s affairs were in such disarray after a lengthy occupation by Simeon’s pet thugs that truly wiping her hometown free of corruption would be a task that could take Primrose many years. Not only that, her miraculous return to life hadn’t been taken entirely kindly by the other noble families. The Azelharts had long been a controversial line, with many of their coffers said to be tainted with whispers and blood. Any appearances she made at town council meetings or balls were met with barely-concealed whispers, usually about her scandalous past in Sunshade, or the dagger she kept strapped to her leg.

The old Azelhart mansion only felt emptier after having returned from such a long trip with such constant company. Despite her fierce independence, she often found herself thinking of what her companions would say about life in Noblecourt. 

Cyrus would be marvelling at the architecture of the manor, for sure. Therion would insist on searching the grounds for traps, or rather, pretending he didn’t care until he could jump at the chance. She yearned to have Ophilia and Alfyn by her side as she walked down the alleys of the poor neighborhoods, seeing so many with untreated injuries inflicted during the Obsidians’ reign. Surely Olberic would be willing to spar and keep her fighting skills sharp, and Tressa’s relentless optimism could make even the dreariest days tolerable.

Most of all, though, she missed everything about H’aanit. The way she cooked, the way her voice dipped at the end of sentences, the maddening little smirk she so often slipped into after a battle. She had departed for S’warkii at the first opportunity with little more than the clothes on her back, a suitcase of essentials, and a lovely scarf that was a gift from Ophilia’s recent visit. Now that she was here, though, it felt like Noblecourt was a world away, and the world she was in now was simply H’aanit’s warm cottage. That was more than alright by her.

After a few more attempts at the pirouette and several deep purrs from Linde, a knock on the front door caught both womens’ attention.

“Were you expecting a guest?” Primrose asked, watching as the leopard leapt from her seat and went to stand by her master’s side.

“Nay. Perhaps ‘tis a village child, they sometimes asken to play with Linde.”

Judging by the deep and booming laugh that sounded as H’aanit opened the door, the visitor was certainly no child. Primrose instinctively went for her dagger as she heard her girlfriend yelp in apparent distress, but felt the adrenaline fade as a familiar bulky figure entered, H’aanit slung over his shoulder like a very grumpy shawl.

“Why, ‘prentice, thou did not tellen me thou had a guest! Hoho!”

This giant of a man was H’aanit’s mentor, Z’aanta. His wild gray hair and beard spilled out over a dark green overcoat, and the jolly grin on his face had been a permanent fixture each time Primrose had seen him. He extended a meaty fist, the one that wasn’t holding onto H’aanit, towards her.

“Lovely to see you again, Z’aanta.” Primrose replied as she shook his hand. She was unable to stifle the giggle that came as she watched H’aanit’s legs lightheartedly trying to kick at her master’s stomach. 

“Thou remember Primrose, correct, Master?”

Recognition suddenly flashed across Z’aanta’s grizzled face. “Ah! Of course, thou art the fearless dancer! H’aanit hath the most glowing praise for thee, Primrose! I daresay thou art her most favored subject!”

The little bit of the Huntress’s face that was visible under Z’aanta’s arm was turning thoroughly red, and the once-playful kicks suddenly increased in force.

“Master, release me!”

Primrose smiled. “Now, no rush, Z’aanta, feel free to tell me all of the lovely things she’s told you about me. I’m just so flattered at the thought.” She flashed a teasing grin where she hoped H’aanit could see it. 

Still chortling, Z’aanta lowered H’aanit to the ground and allowed her to scurry off. The huntress swiftly rose to her full height once again, shaking her head in Z’aanta’s direction. Her disapproval only seemed to make Z’aanta’s bassy laugh even louder as he sat on the sofa next to Primrose, giving her a jovial nod. He smelled like the woods outside, fresh firewood and cloying pine needles, but mixed with a healthy portion of alcohol. Primrose was all too used to people who smelled like beer sidling up next to her, ogling her like a prize to be won, but Z’aanta’s gaze reflected nothing more than warmth and welcome.

H’aanit had finally settled into a chair, Linde padding over to lounge next to her. “Master, I thought thou werest on business in Bolderfall for three more moons.”

“Aye, the beast was easier quelled than I thought! Do not get thyself comfortable in mine presence so soon, though! I shall depart for Atlasdam this eve. Hagen est already on his way with mine notice.” Z’aanta shook his head, knocking a few spare twigs loose from his hair. “‘Twas thine friend the professor who senteth for me, you know.”

“Cyrus?” H’aanit raised an eyebrow. “For what purpose doth he need S’warkii’s senior hunter?”

Primrose leaned in, intrigued by the question as well.

“He doth claim the academy grounds hath an infestation of beasten, and ‘tis dangerous to hold class outdoors.” 

Primrose couldn’t contain a chuckle. “Outdoor classes? Sounds like Cyrus, alright.”

“But, ‘tis enough about me, is it not?” Z’aanta smiled, patting Primrose on the shoulder with his left hand. “I must hearen the tales H’aanit hath told me in thine own words, Primrose!” H’aanit was already starting to blush again, her nails digging slightly into the arms of the chair. “I hath heard thy once did battle with a fearsome Venomtooth Tiger with naught more than thine dagger!”

“Well, I did have help…”

During their travels, H’aanit had often talked about how Z’aanta adored telling tales of his own exploits, but it seemed to Primrose that the man simply loved storytelling in general. He was an utterly animated audience, wincing with each described blow, joyfully cheering when she told of a successful attack by herself or her allies, and frequently interrupting the story to add his own interjections about certain details of the beast. Despite how entertaining he was, Primrose’s vision still often fell on H’aanit. The huntress looked like she had seen this sort of thing hundreds of times before, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. Despite all of that, she took the time to return Prim’s glances with smiles, though she quickly reverted to rolling her eyes when Z’aanta felt the need to clarify just how much larger the Venomtooth he had once tangled with was.

“Why, ‘twas an astounding battle, methinks!” Z’aanta called after the story ended. His eyes were bright and wide as he turned his gaze to H’aanit. “H’aanit, hast thou told her of the venom drake?”

Primrose blinked. “Venom drake? I don’t believe I’ve yet had the pleasure.”

All eyes were suddenly on H’aanit, and she gave a heavy shrug of her shoulders.

“Not overmuch to say. I received a request to hunten a monster in yonder woods. Linde and I departed a few moons ago, did battle, slayed the beast, and hence returned.”

As Primrose snickered and Z’aanta shook his head, H’aanit threw her hands in the air.

“And what, may I ask, doth the two of you finden so laughable?”

Z’aanta reclined against the sofa, grinning widely at his former student. “Thou may wish to seek lessons in showmanship from thine esteemed guest, H’aanit.” His smile moved to Prim now. “Go on, Primrose, please educate mine dullheaded apprentice with one of thy recent tales of adventure!”

That she couldn’t think of anything bothered Primrose a little more than she thought it should. She doubted either of the hunters would be interested in her latest success, getting the notoriously stingy treasurer of Noblecourt to agree to assisting her with repairing the manor. H’aanit and Z’aanta fought with bows, axes, and magic, rather than quills, parchment, and bylaws. And that had been weeks ago, regardless. Was there really nothing else she deemed worthy of remembering?

“Actually, Z’aanta…” she deflected, batting her eyelashes in a time-tested attack, “H’aanit has told me that you once fought a fully grown dragon! Would you mind telling me that story?”

In defiance of H’aanit’s groan, Z’aanta’s eyes widened, and soon the aged hunter was regaling them with a tale of daring and danger, using H’aanit’s house as the stage for his grand one-man-play. The incredible performance (and H’aanit’s skeptical interrogation about the more incredible segments) lasted until the sun began to set, and a weary Z’aanta finally glanced out the window and sighed.

“I suppose ‘tis time for mine departure. I would not want to sully mine record of jobs well done!”

“Sully further, thou mean?” teased H’aanit as she rose to embrace her master. He gave a goodhearted scoff and hugged her before turning to Primrose.

“‘Twas lovely to speaken with thou, Primrose! I shall pray for thine company again sometime.”

“No prayers needed.” Prim smiled, lightly slapping Z’aanta on the back. “Feel free to inquire anytime.”

It wasn’t as if she had anything else to do.

Unable to sleep, Primrose quietly unfolded herself from the couch she was lying on. It was frustrating, knowing that rest still did not come easily even with her father avenged. As loathe as she was to admit it to herself, it was perhaps even worse now.

For ten years, she dreamed of slaying the Crows. She fought through the abuse, humiliation, and violence by picturing her dagger piercing their hearts, one by one. Now, though, it was over. She recalled Simeon’s sneer, his sadistic playfulness unflinching even in the face of death. He had told her that without revenge, she would be nothing.

She hated that it felt like he was right.

Primrose stood on shaky legs and made for the door, careful not to step on a snoozing Linde curled up at the foot of the sofa. She took care to make her footsteps silent, not wanting to wake H’aanit. She’d caused the huntress enough trouble. Thankfully, her experience creeping out of the dancer’s dormitories was enough to muffle the sound of her retreat. Tossing Ophilia’s scarf lazily over the collar of her dancer’s uniform, she stepped outside.

S’warkii was so much different from Sunshade. Even in the dead of night, something was happening on every street in the desert city, much of it unspeakable. She remembered teaching Yusufa to avoid the gaze of passerby for fear they would inform Helgenish as she lead the other woman to a secret location. There was a secluded palm tree in an abandoned alley near the corner of the tavern, blocked off by a fence that was easily scalable with a dancer’s agility.

“What do you want to do when you get out of here?”

Primrose had asked Yusufa the question one night under a half moon, both of them lying in the dirt beneath the secret palm. Yusufa raked a hand through her deep black hair and exhaled slowly.

“I don’t know if I ever will, Prim.”

Yusufa didn’t have a noble house to return to one day. She was an orphan with nothing but the clothes on her back and the few leaves Primrose knew she kept hidden under her bed. She would save them to buy fruit flavored drinks from the vendors, but only once she had enough for both herself and Primrose.

“Hush now. You’re going to. Even if I have to make all the leaf in the world and buy your freedom, I’ll do it.” Primrose smirked. “And I’ll buy you a house by a lake too. Hire you a very handsome butler who you could have a secret tryst with!”

Yusufa laughed, a gentle sound which Primrose adored, and returned to thinking.

“Well, in that case...I’d like to be an apothecary. I want to help people who are ill. There’s so much death and pain in the world...I just don’t want to see it happen to anyone else.”

Primrose’s heart broke at her words. She adored Yusufa, but especially after that, there was no way she could be completely honest. So she looked her only friend in the eyes, took a deep breath, and lied through her teeth.

“I want to…”

Gods, S’warkii was cold in the winter. Primrose’s body felt numb as she paced around the front of H’aanit’s cabin, the outfit she had chosen to wear as her sleepwear doing her no favors. She had worn the dancer’s garb to bed for a long time, though, and found it a hard habit to break.

Blustery gales tossed her hair as she stood and shivered, looking up at the half moon above. Once that sign of endless possibility had been liberating, but now it almost seemed to mock her. What was she good for now? Where could she go from here? The silver of the moon reminded her of the color of Simeon’s hair, and she spat on the ground in frustration. It was a futile gesture, a hasty finger tossed in the face of fate, and it brought her no relief. 

So she simply stood, shivering quietly in the cold and trying to think, the only accompaniment to her racing thoughts the chattering of her teeth and the howl of the wind.

“Primrose?”

The call was familiar, and she turned around to see H’aanit waiting in the doorway, a look of shock painting her grizzled features.

“Primrose, art thou mad? Come in!”

She weakly shook her head. She hated to ignore H’aanit, but she had to think, and the cold would punish her for straying from her task. Pain, she found, had always managed to be an effective teacher. So she stood rooted to the snow, refusing to move while the chill crawled across her skin.

A sigh sounded from behind her.

“Oh, dear Primrose...I doth apologizen for this.”

Primrose watched as H’aanit walked around her and lunged downwards. Primrose lost her footing as she was hoisted into the air, gasping as her vision flipped upside down and she found herself staring at H’aanit’s back. (Not a terrible view, at least.)

“H’aanit!”

The huntress wrapped an arm tightly around Prim’s waist and began to walk back to her house, humming quietly as she went.

“H’aanit, come on, this isn’t fair!” She had never found a reason to be upset with her partner’s impressive musculature before, but there was a first time for everything.

With a throaty chuckle, H’aanit continued through the doorframe, Linde trotting dutifully behind her.

“Why, Primrose, thou seemed to thinken this quite humorous when Master did it to me! What hath changed?”

The dancer seethed, but couldn’t help the smirk that emerged as H’aanit passed a gentle hand through her hair. “Perhaps.” she muttered. “Fine. I suppose I’ll just go along for the ride.” She watched Linde walking below, slowly realizing how H’aanit must have learned of her departure.

“You little snitch.”

Linde let out a victorious mewl.

H’aanit carried Primrose into her bedroom and gently deposited her girlfriend on the bed. Primrose looked up with a pout as H’aanit sat next to her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

“Something troubles thou.”

Primrose sighed, stretching out and gazing at the window. “It’s fine, H’aanit, I just had to go think. I’ll get through it.”

Frowning, H’aanit drew Primrose closer, rubbing her hand along the dancer’s cold flesh. “Not if thou freezen to death.”

There was no response as Primrose continued to stare at the horizon, gently leaning into H’aanit’s care.

“Speaken to me, dear Primrose. I wish to help thee in any way that I can.”

In truth, she wanted to. She wanted to pour her concerns into H’aanit’s loving arms and let the indomitable huntress guide her through the doubts. She wanted to curl against H’aanit’s chest and watch as she shot down fear and pain like targets with her bow, live by the beat of her lover’s heart, just for a few moments.

But she wouldn’t do that again. 

“No. You always listen to me, H’aanit, and that’s wonderful. But I don’t want to burden you with this. I have to get through this alone.” Gently, she drifted out of H’aanit’s embrace and brought the blankets over her legs, trying to warm herself where H’aanit couldn’t fret over her.

Her face scrunched, H’aanit frowned as Primrose drew away, bundling up in the corner of the bed. “Primrose, thou knowen I care for thee greatly. Please speak.” When Primrose merely shook her head in response, H’aanit sighed deeply and stood, walking to the doorway. “Fine, if thou insist. But I hath a question.”

Primrose turned and waited.

“Hath thou spoken to Linde about this?”

The leopard trotted into the room following a hand signal from her master. She circled the bed and sat down in front of a baffled Primrose, looking up into the dancer’s eyes.

“If thou worry about burdening me overmuch, perhaps Linde would be preferable to speaken with.” H’aanit grinned mischievously.

Primrose blinked, mulling over H’aanit’s words. “I...no, I haven’t spoken to Linde...H’aanit, come on.” She threw her arms lightly in the air, unable to hide the smirk that crept across her face. “You’re very funny all of a sudden.”

“I finden her an excellent conversation partner.” H’aanit managed to keep a straight face, her typical stoic nature serving her well.

Primrose sighed, rolling her eyes goodnaturedly. She knew H’aanit was trying to help, and figured she’d at least let her have this. “Alright, I’ll speak to Linde, but no listening in!”

H’aanit nodded. “Thine wish is mine command.” She turned and faced the corner of the room, not actually bothering to exit.

“H’aanit…” Primrose moaned, still smiling. “You've really chosen quite an obnoxious time to become a comedian.”

The huntress didn't respond, still standing absolutely still in the corner of the room. Primrose sighed, shaking her head. This was out of the ordinary for H’aanit, who used to only speak bluntly and seldomly. Her beloved forest-dweller was growing up so fast. A deep rumbling sound reminded her of the room’s other occupant. At her feet sat Linde, still gazing up with wide golden eyes. She licked her lips and dropped her chin to the floor as if waiting for Primrose to begin. It wasn't as if she could say no to that face.

“Alright...Linde.” Primrose looked over her shoulder only to be met with H’aanit’s back once again. “I suppose what’s troubling me is that I don’t know what I’m here for anymore.” Her tone fell as she scratched the leopard’s ears. “My entire life, I’ve wanted to avenge my father, and now I have, and I don’t know what to do. I’m not very skilled at much, Linde, and now I fear I don’t know how to move on.”

This was silly. She should stop. But something about the quiet sounds of H’aanit’s breath quieted her nerves, and she couldn’t help but continue.

“Gods, Linde, I’ve done nothing but destroy and tear down. And I don’t regret it, but now I have to rebuild, and I just…” Primrose inhaled deeply before pressing her chin to her chest. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” She laughed, shortly and bitterly. “I’ve become so damned useless.”

Something shifted behind her back, and a few moments later a pair of muscular arms twined themselves around Prim’s midsection as H’aanit climbed onto the bed behind her. Primrose sighed and leaned her head back, looking into the familiar eyes above her. She winced.

"Eavesdropping, hmm? Scandalous, dear.” It was a half-hearted tease, but she had to at least give it a shot. She slowly toppled onto her side, letting H’aanit slide down to the mattress alongside her.

“Primrose, I understand thine fears.” H’aanit lightly rubbed a hand on Primrose’s back, pulling a few blankets over herself as well. “But thou are far from useless. ‘Tis truly foolishness.”

Primrose nodded, closing her eyes as H’aanit gently massaged some of the lingering cold away. “Thank you. But I can’t do much anymore, darling. I fear my adventuring days are over, and I’ll become the same sort of lazy noble that used to leer at me in Sunshade.” She shivered, either from cold or bitter memories and unsure which. “I need a purpose, H’aanit, and I just can’t seem to find one.”

Thinking to herself for a moment, H’aanit leaned in close, grazing the side of Primrose’s cheek with her nose. “Thou may rest, Primrose,” she whispered, “thou hath fought for such a long time. Please, start not another battle with thyself.” Primrose squirmed gently in response to the nose, bunching the blankets in her hands.

“I can’t, H’aanit. I’m an Azelhart. Certain things are expected of me.”

“By whomst?”

Primrose scoffed. “By half of Noblecourt. The “important people”. They’d like nothing more than to get rid of both the Azelhart name and the murderous tramp haunting the place.” She felt H’aanit’s grip tighten as the insult fell from her tongue.

“It soundeth to me like they do not deserve thine care in the slightest. They certainly do not sounden important to me.”

As H’aanit gently pulled her tight against her chest, Primrose chuckled. That was something else utterly wonderful about H’aanit. The forest-born warrior cared nothing for titles, rank, or wealth. Being near her was utterly liberating. She fully expected that if even if she were simply a penniless dancer when they met, and not a noble scion, the way H’aanit had always treated her would not have changed. 

H’aanit would have loved Yusufa too, she was sure.

“I wish everyone agreed with you, H’aanit.” she replied, burying her face in the sand-colored curtain of her lover’s hair. The smell of fresh pine overcame her. “But society does so love its titles and courtesies. I’d toss out my nobility in a moment if it meant I could actually do something with it.”

The only part of the Azelhart name that carried much weight with her anymore was the memory of her father. Geoffrey was a good man, she knew it, and he didn’t need the “Azelhart” bit appended to show it.

Suddenly, the seeds of an idea began to bloom in Primrose’s head.

“So why don’t I?”

As she sat up, H’aanit slowly followed, confusion spread across her features. “Why doth thou not what, Primrose?”

“I’ve got an enormous manse I’m not interested in using…” She gripped H’aanits shoulders, excitedly shaking the baffled huntress. “So I’ll give it away!”

H’aanit gasped. “Thy wish to...give away a mansion?”

Primrose sat tall, grinning. “Not once I’m done with it. I’ll invest the rest into remodelings and staff...and turn it into a haven. Somewhere that could really benefit people.”

“An apothecary’s office!” she concluded.

“An orphanage?” H’aanit offered.

Both of them had blurted out their ideas at once, and Primrose laughed as H’aanit backed down slightly, looking sheepish.

“I doth apologize. I thought thou werest searching for mine input.”

Her energy suddenly returned, Primrose gave H’aanit’s shoulders a light shake. “Aww, you know you’re always welcome to pitch in. And I like it. Why not a dual purpose estate? I certainly have the space.” She swallowed quietly. “In fact, it’s better this way. I can use both names.”

H’aanit tilted her head in confusion as Primrose seemed to take a moment of solace, her eyes gently sparkling with oncoming tears and a smile dancing across her face.

“The Yusufa Clinic and Geoffrey Orphanage.” Her thoughts turned to a place of solace she had often sought in the past. She pictured Yusufa with her apothecary’s satchel, receiving an embrace from a grateful patient. Her eyes sparkling like gemstones as they had on the most special of cool Sunshade nights. She thought of her father, as she remembered him. His hands warm and his smile inviting, sitting cross-legged on the floor as he read an adventurous tale from his personal library aloud, a group of children clinging to his every word. Primrose knew these were fantasies now, the cruel nature of reality having cut these two lives tragically short, but she would honor their memories. “I’ll make them both proud, H’aanit. That will be my purpose.”

H’aanit exhaled slowly, her hands gently stroking Primrose’s forearms. “Oh, dear Primrose. I admire thine charity, as always. But I doth fear I must asken. Wheren doth thou come into thine plans?”

Primrose shrugged. “I will survive, like I always have. I don’t expect to have much of the Azelhart fortune left after the renovations, so I’ll have to find a new livelihood.” A frown teased at her lips, but was replaced with a mockingly sweet grin the moment she noticed. “Perhaps one of those Noblecourt stuffed shirts would love to hire their former rival on as a dancer, hm?”

“Mayhaps. Or thou couldst simply live here with me.”

Primrose was suddenly grateful for the limited light, hoping it stopped H’aanit from seeing the blood that had suddenly rushed to her cheeks. “Oh my, H’aanit.” She adopted the sultry tone she reserved for teasing her friends, lightly stroking a nail along H’aanit’s chin. “Are you asking if I’ll move in with you? Sleep in your bed and greet you in the morning?”

H’aanit gave a curt nod. “Indeed.”

Sometimes H’aanit was easily flustered, but sometimes teasing simply rolled off of her back without a hint of understanding. Both cases made Primrose smile, as she was now. “Are you sure you’ll have me?” Primrose’s mannerisms went back to normal, looking H’aanit over carefully. “I don’t want to intrude, you know.”

Gently pulling her girlfriend into a tender embrace, H’aanit tilted her chin down and whispered into her ear. “Thou shouldst never feel guilty for being by mine side, Prim. ‘Tis the most wonderful feeling in the world.” Her lips grazed the top of Primrose’s ear, giving the lightest of kisses to the quickly reddening dancer.

Being in H’aanit’s arms reminded her of the secluded palm tree. It was a place of almost supernatural safety, where the stresses and pains of the outside world were kept at bay.

“I hope you know that meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me.” Prim whispered.

As Linde leapt gently onto the bed, sprawling across both of their legs, H’aanit chuckled gently. “Speaken not so soon, dear Primrose. We’ve the rest of our lives ahead now.”

Basking in the resplendent warmth of both H’aanit’s lovely embrace and Linde’s relaxed form, Primrose couldn’t feel the chill on her body anymore. She twisted her head and let her cheek rest on a pillow, looking at H’aanit as she settled in.

“We do. But for now, I think Linde wants us to go to sleep.”

H’aanit scoffed, lying down as well, her arms still wrapped around Primrose. “She is a most spoiled cat. Heed not her feline tyranny. Tellen me more about thine plans for the mansion.”

Primrose smiled wide at the request, her mental gears swiftly turning at the pace of her warm heartbeat.

“Well, I’ll need to get some construction help, though I wager I’ve more than enough inheritance for that. Alfyn will assuredly have ideas on how to stock the clinic’s ingredient cabinets, so I’ll get in touch with him...as well as Ophilia, she’s so good with kids. She’ll be so delighted I’m sure I’ll have to hold her back from trying to drag them all back to Flamesgrace herself! I’m sure Tressa will cut me a deal on supplies if I appeal to her better nature, or remind her of that time I saved her from a Ratkin ambush. Twice in one day.”

Her giggle was outmatched by H’aanit’s deep laugh at that memory. For a few more hours, they exchanged reminiscences, talked about new opportunities with old friends, and reveled in the pleasure of one another’s company. The days ahead would assuredly be busy, filled with plans and work and potential setbacks that would have to be overcome.

Thankfully, they had each other, and that was more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed this story! I've been in a bit of an emotional slump lately, so naturally a little fluff with my favorite Octopath characters is how I cope. Try not to judge me too hard. :p
> 
> I feel a little worried that I presented Primrose as being a little too reliant on H'aanit in this story, despite how independently strong she is. But honestly I'll never turn down the chance to have someone give Prim a hug. I'm planning on doing a series of short fics about the Octopath cast in the future, and I thought this would be a good starting point.
> 
> Feel free to leave feedback, it always brightens my day. Thanks again!


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